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The plumber was bewildered, and he hadn’t yet discovered the paint roller extension pole.

It had been 24 hours since I noticed a puddle in the basement. The source of the leak was unwelcome, but repairable, according to my husband because a trickle from the sewage cleanout pipe was nothing a plunger couldn’t fix.

The plan was to remove the cap, eliminate whatever obstacle might be impeding the flow to the septic tank, replace the lid and carry on.

A gentle twist was all it took. From there, it was like watching a WWII submarine movie with saltwater gushing through breached pipes, drenching the actors struggling to shut valves with nothing more than wrenches and dangerously good looks.

My mother and I were sitting in the magazine lounge of a library we had never been in before. We were waiting for my daughter to learn how to play chess because when you homeschool, you enroll your kids in strategic board game workshops led by cheerful retirees.

It’s in the handbook.

Fifteen minutes in, I noticed a little black fluff on the water bottle wedged in the outer pocket of my backpack. I could have left it alone but my phone battery was dying so I was looking for something else to do.

I was born with a full head of hair. I’m talking about the kind of
tufts that would look right at home in an advertisement for baby hair
gel... if babies used hair gel. Looking back, it’s entirely possible my
penchant for hair product first began when – as a toddler – I styled my
locks with oatmeal.

By the time I could ride a bike, the only way to contain my mop was a tidy, at-home-mullet, courtesy of mom.

Fortunately,
as a kid, I had no real concept of what it meant to look good. In fact,
rummaging through old family photographs, one might assume I grew up in
a house without mirrors. Or reflective surfaces of any kind.

And yet, it’s all the rage. I mean, everybody’s
either doing it, or thinking about doing it. This includes
dyed-in-the-wool hoarders, forward-thinking hamsters, and anyone who
lives in a tiny house.

Even I’ve (almost) embraced the trend.

For example, I know people who have watched Minimalism: A Documentary About the Important Things on Netflix and I own The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up.
I’ve also held all of my belongings and waited for them to bring me
joy. (And let me just say, Marie Kondo, that’s a lot of pressure to put
on a pair of 99 cent socks rescued from the depths of the last chance
sale bin at Old Navy.)

I never know what will trigger the purchase. Sometimes it’s hearing a Depeche Mode song at the grocery store while I’m picking up string cheese. Other times it’s the absence of coffee cream in my refrigerator. Mostly, it’s nostalgia - or amnesia - brought on by lack of sleep. And Pinterest.